I'm Sorry
by obi-glasses
Summary: Even when you're best friends with someone, sometimes you can't understand what's going through their head. Especially if they've just accidentally run over a child.
1. Chapter 1

_A little experimentation, taking place during episode 47. Yes, it's available on youtube- go search "biker mice 47", and thank me later. :)_

You'd think it'd be simple. Crash the parking garage, blow up the Tower (this time, add some fireworks, make it really pretty and spell out FISH SUCK), go back to Charley's and celebrate a victory.

Not quite.

0000

I hear Vinnie- actually, it's his bike, sending out a distress signal. So what else is new?

Out comes the calvary! Boom, smash, through the fence to save Vinnie's ass and destroy things and kill goons and such. I raise my arm, take aim, 'ject the cannon, get ready to fire-

Wait, what?

I turn around.

Oh, my, GOD.

I jump off my bike and run over to him- this kid, he looks just barely 10 years old.. oh my God, look at what I've done!

How could I have missed him? I went right through that fence! I had no idea he was.. How did I miss him? How?

I kneel down to pick him up, and then I feel the shadow and hear the taunts as a goon swings his craneful of steel girder at me. I barely register that Vinnie's the one who manages to save me and the kid in the nick of time.

He comes over and starts joking, being sarcastic like he's so good at. He doesn't see the kid until I pick him up and turn around, then Vinnie's face falls and he mumbles, "Oh, man."

"I gotta get this kid to a hospital," I say, and it comes out a little raspy.

0-0-0

Good lord, I've been waiting in this Godforsaken room for a hour, when's he gonna-

Oh, there's the nurse.

"You may see the patient now."

I shove into the room and go over to the kid. He has bruises on his face, his arm, his leg and arm are in a cast and dear lord there's a _bandage _over his eye-

I gather myself, "Kid, can ya hear me?" Nothing. He just moans. "Can ya talk?"

Again, nothing. He stirrs a little bit. Where are his parents? Oh, great, what if he's from a orphanage? That'd look real fucking nice on my resume. 'Ran over a orphan, broke his arm and leg and made him half-blind. Had Vietnam flashback. _Oops._'

"I'm so sorry.. I didn't mean to.. I.. " That sounded sincere. Get yourself together, damnit. "I'm sorry. I.."

"Ahem," the nurse says, gesturing to the door. I look at her, then down at the kid.

"I'll be back, lil' bro. I.. promise."

I head out, back to the waiting room where Throttle and Vinnie are. "How is he?" Vinnie asks.

I don't reply. Too busy thinking. My mother's going to kill me. Oh, and then my father will resurrect me and kill me again. Probably won't stop them either.

"It's not your fault, Modo," Throttle says. He grips my shoulder as we go into the elevator. "Anyone could have made a mistake like that."

Nothing from me except a shrug to get his hand off me. What does he know? I don't think he's ever run children over before. I'd rather take advice from someone who's been through this before, thankyouverymuch.

"Look, we can go back to Charley's and talk it out and stuff, okay?"

I look back at Vinnie, see his face, full of concern. "Yeah. Talk." I step out of the open elevator, head to my bike.

This day is full of crap, isn't it?

0-0-0

"Modo?"

Charley-ma'am. Oh, wonderful. You're the last person I want to talk to right now.

"Throttle said you wanted to talk to me."

_Stupid-ass IDIOT!_

I clench my fists just a little bit and lean down further over the table, angrily pressing the pen further into the paper, trying to finish a design for a custom bike paint job. "I don't."

"Oh."

Nervous silence. Stupid silence. Go away.

Go _away, _woman! Can't your intuition tell you I don't want to talk?

"You need to talk." She sits on the table next to my right arm, looks down at me with 'the look'. Oh, you're a crafty one, Charley. You know I can't resist 'the look'..

"What happened, Modo? Vinnie said you were in a accident but he wouldn't say with what or who."

She puts her hand on my cold metal arm, her face never flinching when she touches it. I put down my pen.

God bless you, woman.

"I.. I ran over.."

She reaches to hold my left hand as I lean back in the chair. This is too painful, she probably thinks, and let's lend the big teddy bear some strength now, hmm?

I squeeze her hand gently, ever so softly. Can't break her too.

"I ran over a kid."

"What?" Her reply is sharp, not out of anger but out of shock. It's almost the same except for the look on her face. 'The other look', the one she pulls out when Vinnie does something dangerous and lands on his neck or something equally stupid.

"I ran over a kid," I repeat.

0000

_Reviews, please? Tips on how to improve this would be greatly appreciated. :D_


	2. Chapter 2

_"I ran over a kid."_

"When?" she asks me, her expression a combination of horror and sympathy and not a little anger.

"J-just today." I stare at the table, thinking maybe this isn't a prudent thing to tell her.

She leans over to hold my face, her fingers running through my fur. "You can tell me, Modo. It's okay."

What am I supposed to tell you, Charley-girl? That I had a sudden 'brain fart' and lost half my judgement and dear lord I'm tearing up. Fine example of machismo I am, huh?

"I- I crashed through a fence, but there was this kid and I didn't see him," I ramble, the hard lump in my throat making it hard to talk. "He's- I think he lost a eye, and his arm's in a cast and his leg's in a cast, and I think he's a orphan, dear lord what am I _going to do...!_"

I bend down, resting my head on the table, everything coming out in tears now, while Charley talks to me and rubs my back. "Modo, it's going to be okay. Shhh. It's gonna be okay. Shhh.."

0-0-0

"Hey, kid."

I look down at the boy, and he doesn't look back- according to the nurse, his brain is bleeding.

I'm not even sure why I'm here, really. They're taking him in for surgery in a hour, and there's no chance he'll wake up before then so I can really talk to him.

Still..

"Look, I just wanted to say I'm sorry," like I haven't said that ten times already, "and, well.. If you ever make it out of this, I'm taking you for the biggest banana split you've ever seen. Okay?"

"Sir," the nurse says from the doorway. I look back at her, the corners of her eyes crinkled in amusement. "We need to prep him now."

"Okay." I leave, just managing to catch her words as I head down the hall.

"You don't find a lot of men like that on this planet nowadays, huh?"

Damn right you don't.

0-0-0

"I hate waiting!" Vinnie explodes in the (provokingly named) waiting room.

"Then watch TV," Throttle drones, sagging a little further in his chair. He's here willingly, but he sure as hell doesn't look like it. Of course, I dragged him out of bed at six in the morning to come to the hospital to wait for a kid he doesn't even know. He can be a little tired if he wants to be. I don't mind.

"See, Vinnie? The female preying mantis kills the male after mating and then dances on his corpse! Now isn't that interesting?"

"No, because women already do that," Vinnie grumbles, flopping down in chair. He looks at me pleadingly. I stare back with my best poker face.

"Come on, Modo..." he moans. I look back at Throttle, silently giving him permission to decide. After all, a opportunity to torture 'Motormouth' should never be hogged.

He sighs. "All right, all right. Come on, let's go find the vending machines.. I'm sure I have some change on me somewhere."

"_Yes!_" Vinnie hops onto his feet and victory-dances his way out into the hallway, and Throttle follows him, ruffling his numerous pockets. Oh boy.

"Sir, are you waiting for someone?"

I look up at the old nurse. "Yeah- uhm, I don't know his name.. he was in a car accident?"

"Oh- Mikey." Her face falls.

"Did something go wrong?" Oh, please, don't let it be what I'm thinking it is...

"He went into arrest halfway through. We recussitated him, but he was dead for nearly five minutes.. He's comatose now, but we don't think he's going to wake up anytime soon."

Oh, dear God.

I gather myself. "Can I see him?"

"No, sorry- we're restricting visitation to family members for now."

"Well, does he have any family members?" Maybe I can talk to them.

"One." Her brow furrows. Obviously she doesn't like whoever it is. "We reported him for child abuse. He comes near Mikey and I'll fucking bash his head in." She wrung her hands together angrily and left.

Aw, hell, Modo, you couldn't have done a better job on that, now could you? Not only is he half-blind and permanently disabled, now he's comatose too. Fuck.

Just as Throttle and Vinnie come back in with root beers and bags of potato chips in hand (and under arm), I get up and shove past them, purely mad at myself.

"Hey! Big fella, wait up!" Vinnie growls after me, goose-stepping to avoid spilling his root beer.

"How's the kid?" Throttle asks, his own full root beer not stopping him from gracefully running on his tip-toes.

I growl back wordlessly and hurry up. I don't want to talk.

0-0-0

_Click._

_Whirr._

_Click. _

_Whirr._

I absently stare at my metal arm, watching as the laser cannon raises and falls. Raises and falls.

_Click. _

It's not just the kid.

Limburger's either started choosing villians himself or he's not hiring from Black Rock anymore, but either way, they're tougher and smarter and faster. And much, much better armed. Vinnie nearly got killed the other day trying to use Wrap-Around Trap 7 on a Plutarkian villian, who unfortunately for us had a literal cannon that warped air and sound to rip through and apart anything in its path. Almost including one over-calculating, egotistic mouse who didn't see that one little pool of grease and slipped.

And Charley-girl- last month she nearly got her hands taken off by a psychotic criminal- not a alien, but a serial killer who Limburger promised all the victims he wanted in exchange for killing us. I don't think she's ever held me so tightly before. She still has little pink marks on her wrists.

_Whirr. _

_Click. _

_Whirr._

_Click._

And then- I'm not sure why, but then, that's been kind of a common thing these past couple of days- I raise my arm to my head, pressing the deployed cannon up to my right temple.

0-0-0

_CLIFFHANGER. HAHAHAHAHA._

_Reviews? :3_


	3. Chapter 3

_And then- I'm not sure why, but then, that's been kind of a common thing these past couple of days- I raise my arm to my head, pressing the deployed cannon up to my right temple. _

It'd be painless, that's for sure. Bam, right through my head, making a colorful splatter on the wall.

Would they miss me?

Oh, don't ask that! Of course they'd miss me. Vinnie would be torn up- he'd go off and destroy Limburger's tower on his own, and then he'd come back and puddle up in private, and Throttle would catch him and they'd .. well, Throttle can't shed tears, but he would try.

Stoker would probably yell at my corpse- I don't know what he would say, but he'd yell, because that's how he deals with death. He gets mad. It's a flaw he has a right to have.

I lower my arm, thinking about Momma and Dad, Rimfire and Primer and Sis. Even if I wanted to, even if I _deserved_ to, (like I do now) I can't shoot myself to end my problems.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, "stupid."

"What?"

I turn in my seat, looking up at Vinnie. "Ahm.. uh.. Nothin'."

"Muhumm," he grunts, staring at me with that look that says 'you're full of so much crap right now'.

"Didja want somethin'?" I ask.

"Yeah- phone for ya," and he hands me the chunky handset.

"Hello?"

"Hi, this is Mister.. Modo, right?" the tiny voice chirps.

"Yeah! Are you calling about Mikey?" Maybe he came out of his coma- maybe he's alright, maybe I can see him-

"Yes. Um."

That tone is not good.

"He's.. Sir.. Um... "

Oh, God.

"He's dead, sir. His heart failed, about a hour ago, and we couldn't revive him. Sir, I'm so sorry- sir, are you there? Hello?"

I set the phone down. End the call.

Wha..

He's..

"Bro?" Vinnie comes over, his hand on my shoulder.

"Oh," is all that I can muster.

"He's dead, isn't he?"

Screw machismo.

I lean back, my hands over my face now, and break down.

* * *

_I'm ebul. Oh yes. :D_

_Reviews, please?_


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